


The Fall of the House of Northwest

by EaglePursuit



Series: Another Summer's Sunny Days [5]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Crystal - Freeform, Dipcifica, F/M, Gradual Dipcifica, Pacifica Northwest needs a hug, Post-Gravity Falls, Returning to Gravity Falls, Short, Teenage Dipper Pines, Teenage Dipper Pines and Mabel Pines, Teenage Mabel Pines, Teenage Pacifica Northwest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24784273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EaglePursuit/pseuds/EaglePursuit
Summary: Part 5 of the Another Summer's Sunny Days series. Ford takes Dipper and Mabel to see his old partner, Fiddleford McGucket. But when they can't gain entrance to McGucket's Hootenanny Hut, they have to turn to a friend they haven't talked to since last summer to help them sneak in.
Relationships: Dipper Pines/Original Female Character(s), Pacifica Northwest/Dipper Pines
Series: Another Summer's Sunny Days [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792519
Kudos: 21





	The Fall of the House of Northwest

**Author's Note:**

> Based on: Disney’s Gravity Falls  
> Created by: Alex Hirsch
> 
> Beta readers: my wife & PK2317  
> Art by: KID | @KIDWMA

The Fall of the House of Northwest 

Dipper crouched beside the arm of the moldy, yellow sofa on the back porch of the Mystery Shack. The air was warm, still, and quiet but for the droning of insects in the forest. His shirt was damp with perspiration and more than a little tap water. His muscles tensed like snakes ready to strike. A board creaked behind him. He raised the water pistol as he spun around.

Ford held his hands up. “Hold your fire!” He was dressed in his usual attire of a brown jacket over a red turtleneck and black pants, despite the heat, and had a heavy duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Mabel suddenly appeared, dangling upside-down from the roof by her grappling hook, a water pistol in each hand. “Aw, Grunkle Ford. I was just about to win.” She unhooked the grappling hook from her waistband and flipped to the ground. “Ta-da!”

Dipper was unamused by her presumptuousness and squirted her in the face with his water pistol then turned back to his grunkle. “So where are you going?”

“I haven’t had much luck running tests on this device. The results have been very...frustrating. So I thought I’d pay a visit to my old partner, Fiddleford McGucket, and have him take a look at it,” replied Ford. “He explored Crash Site Omega almost as much as I did back in the day.”

“Would it be okay if I tagged along?” Dipper was curious to see how the hillbilly-scientist had adjusted to his newfound success and what he’d done with Northwest Mansion. He imagined legions of ‘thingamadiculous robotamjigs’ clattering throughout the stately, old home, vacuuming, folding laundry, and cooking food for Old Man McGucket.

“Me too!” Mabel pleaded.

“Of course. I was just thinking we should do something together.” Ford smiled. “Let’s just borrow Stan’s car. Maybe we can get some ice cream afterward.”

“Yes!” Mabel pumped her fist and called shotgun. She scrambled into the front seat of the Stanleymobile while Ford slipped his duffle bag into the trunk. Dipper sighed and sat in the back seat behind her.

* * *

Ford pulled the car up to the front gate of McGucket’s Hootenanny Hut, previously, and still frequently, called the Northwest Mansion by the locals. It was immediately obvious the new owner wasn’t keen on groundskeeping. The outer walls of the estate had been vandalized with graffiti. Dipper stifled a laugh at seeing ‘NORTHWORST’ tagged on one of the stylized buttresses. The image of an explosion, or possibly a muffin, was spray-painted across the gate, which stood ajar. Ford pushed the page button on an intercom next to the driveway, but the only reply was static. Dipper stepped out into the muggy heat to push the gate all the way open for the Stanleymobile. It gradually yielded, and creaked until there was enough room for the old red sedan to clear. Ford pulled it through the gate and Dipper got back in.

“How much do you want to bet Old Man McGucket ate all the peacocks?” Dipper whispered to Mabel.

The grass was overgrown and weeds grew up between the cobbles on the driveway. Leaves and algae choked the fountain, which ceased to operate even at a trickle. Wild animals had turned the carefully manicured hedges into a warren. The outer surfaces of the mansion were again graffitied, but the windows and doors appeared to be solid and intact.

Ford stopped the car and the Pines approached the main entrance on foot. The front doors were still emblazoned with the Northwests’ NW insignia. Dipper and Mabel hadn’t been back here since Pacifica made amends with the ghost of a disgruntled former employee and saved the party-goers from a knotty situation at her family’s annual Northwest Fest the previous summer. Ford, on the other hand, hadn’t set foot in the place since a young Preston kicked him out during a confrontation over thirty years before. 

He rang the doorbell and knocked loudly on the door to no response. Then he tried the knob and found it locked. Mabel picked up a pebble and threw it at a window. It ricocheted loudly like a bullet. “Well, that’s interesting.” Ford raised an eyebrow at the unusual reaction. “An energy field, perhaps? It must be some kind of security feature Fiddleford put in. I wonder how he came up with that.”

“So do we leave a note, or would you like to try to get in some other way?” asked Mabel.

Ford rubbed his chin. “I don’t think we’re going to be getting inside short of backing through the front door with Stan’s car.”

“I think Grunkle Stan would approve of that plan.” Mabel grinned slyly.

“Hold on,” Dipper objected. “We know someone who knows this place inside and out. Maybe there’s another way in. Let’s at least ask before we start breaking things.”

“Right! Pacifica! I’ve been meaning to get in touch with her.” Mabel held up her plastic-jewel-bedizened phone. “I’ll text her on the way.”

* * *

Ford drove into a recently built subdivision full of large suburban homes that were each nearly the same except for a handful of color and trim options. The Northwest’s new home put Dipper and Mabel’s average-looking house in Piedmont to shame, but the chic, new upper-middle class abode still paled in comparison to the old Northwest estate on the hill just outside town.

Pacifica was waiting on a comfortable piece of upscale patio furniture on the front porch when they arrived. She was wearing her typical fashionable attire. She stood to greet them with her arms crossed. “I don’t think Father would approve of you being here,” she sneered standoffishly, “considering how you embarrassed him in court the other day.”

Dipper was concerned. “Is...there a problem, Pacifica?” She was hard to predict, but he wasn’t expecting such an unwelcome reception.

“I haven’t heard a thing from you since last summer, and you suddenly show up at my door out of the blue asking for help?” she reproached him forcefully. “Even Father knew you were in town before I did!”

“I…uh.” Dipper was dumbfounded. Did she actually care? She hadn’t even showed up to see them off when they left last summer.

Mabel stepped forward. “Hey, _I_ texted you.”

Pacifica seethed. “Barely. What? Happy Birthday? Merry Christmas? ‘Happy Arbor Day from the Pines’? That’s it?” She turned back to Dipper. “So, is your _girlfriend_ here too? Did you bring _her_ along this summer?”

He froze, suddenly bright red and sweating. “ _Why_ are we talking about my girlfriend?”

“You know I had to hear about her from Grenda?” Pacifica scathed. “I thought we were all friends after N.M.A.T. You’re the worst, Dipper Pines.”

Ford, who was leaning against the car, looked at his wrist chronometer and cleared his throat meaningfully.

Dipper tried his best to get things back on track. “Um, yeah. I deserve that. But we wouldn’t be here asking for help if we weren’t friends, Pacifica.”

She put her hands on her hips. “I do know how to get into the mansion, and I will help you.” Then she focused on Mabel. “But _you_ owe me a favor.”

Mabel, stricken silent by the girl’s fury, gulped and nodded in agreement.

Ford gestured towards the car. “Ahem. Can we go?”

Dipper hastily called shotgun and escaped into the front seat while Mabel and Pacifica sat in the back in chilly silence. Ford backed the old car out of the driveway, leaving a tiny oil stain that would vex Preston later.

* * *

“Why are we here?” asked Ford. The four of them were sitting in the parked car behind the Northwest Mudflap factory. Its grim, laissez faire industrial architecture contrasted conspicuously against the forest-carpeted mountains all around them.

“There’s a shed at the back of the factory. It’s the end of a secret tunnel that goes back up to my old house,” Pacifica replied evenly.

Dipper scrutinized the shed. “Is it locked?” 

Pacifica dignified him with a haughty smirk. “Yes, but I took Father’s key from his desk before you arrived.” She held it up, dangling from a lanyard she had hidden under her shirt.

Dipper raised his eyebrows approvingly, and Pacifica, noticing, softened her expression for just a moment.

Ford grabbed the duffle bag from the trunk and they walked to the shed, set a short distance back from the rear of the factory. Pacifica removed the lanyard from her neck and unlocked the door.

Ford looked back at the factory. “Why didn’t the new owners of the factory change the lock on this shed?”

“Technically, the shed is on the property of the estate, which the factory backs up to,” she explained. “That old kook that bought our house would have to know about the tunnel and shed in order to come change the locks. I was betting that he didn’t.”

They entered the empty shed. A set of concrete steps descended into a dark tunnel. Mabel peered into it. “Are there lights?”

“There are, but the switch is at the house.”

“I guess that makes sense,” she mumbled. She resigned herself to stumbling down a corridor lit only by the lights from their phones.

Pacifica turned her phone’s flashlight on and Mabel and Dipper did the same. Ford slipped a small flashlight out of his pocket and toggled the button. The others winced at the inordinate blast of photons assaulting their eyes. “I made it myself,” he said smugly.

Mabel squinted and shielded her face against the brightness. “Does it at least make your skin smoother like the light bulb in the kitchen?”

“No, it mostly just sears your retinas,” Ford answered absentmindedly before he turned and led the way. “Try not to look directly at it.”

Pacifica was scowling again as she eyed Dipper. “So you got a phone, and you still didn’t text me to say hello or anything?”

“Sorry,” Dipper replied irritably as he avoided making eye contact with her. “I got it because I started seeing Crystal and I’ve been a little preoccupied since then.” 

Mabel threw an arm around him supportively. “Plus, she would kick his butt if she found him texting other girls.”

“Mabel!” Dipper scolded her.

The passageway began to slope upward and became stairs as it climbed the hill. Ford looked around in admiration. “Reinforced concrete. Positive pressure ventilation. Drainage. This is quality construction.”

Pacifica rolled her eyes. “Only the best for Father’s plutocratic playground.”

“What does your father do now, if you don’t mind?” asked Ford.

“He still has friends in high places, of course, and called in some favors after we lost everything. Typical Northwest.” She snorted derisively. “He’s a lobbyist for the oil industry now, schmoozing politicians, trying to get the federal government to relax restrictions on new pipelines and drilling sites. On the plus side, he’s barely home anymore.”

“Hey, I’m a congressman,” Mabel interjected. “Why hasn’t he schmoozed me?”

“I hate to break this to you, Mabel,” Dipper told her dryly. “But we covered that in my A.P. Civics class. Presidents don’t appoint congresspeople. And even if they did, Trembly’s term ended over one hundred fifty years ago.”

She responded to her brother with a raspberry.

The stairway terminated at another set of wooden doors emblazoned with the NW insignia, similar to the ones they encountered at the front of the mansion earlier that day. They looked remarkably out of place against the utilitarian concrete surfaces of the tunnel. 

Despite the subterranean chill, Dipper found himself wiping sweat off his brow with the collar of his vest. “Why didn’t your dad put in an escalator or something?”

“Oh, Father never went down to the factory this way. If he wanted to, he would take the limo.” Pacifica’s eyes glittered coldly in condemnation. “He liked to make the manager climb the steps to report to him personally. It’s the kind of mind games he plays.”

Dipper cringed. “Yeesh.”

“I broke it, by the way,” said Pacifica in an apparent non sequitur. “The bell, I mean. I stole it from their room and ran it over with his car.”

“Good. That thing was awful.” He frowned sympathetically, causing Pacifica’s scowl to subside again.

They pushed the doors open and stepped into the great hall of the mansion. The floor was strewn with trash, tools, bits of machinery, broken inventions, and scraps of metal. The sparse, ramshackle furniture was arranged haphazardly amongst the debris.

Dipper found hardened food residue adhering to the dirty pots on a primitive cooking stove set up in the fireplace. “I don’t think he’s been here for a while.”

“Did...someone ransack it?” Pacifica’s eyes were wide in disbelief of the carnage.

“Maybe. But it’s possible Fiddleford chooses to live this way. He’s had a hard life,” replied Ford solemnly.

She turned suddenly. “I want to go see my old room.” She started picking her way through the detritus.

“I’ll go with you.” Mabel quickly set off after her.

“Good idea, stick together. Dipper and I will look for Fiddleford’s lab. Come find us when you’re done,” said Ford, examining his wrist chronometer.

Pacifica took her time wandering through the hallways and looking into rooms. The place seemed somehow larger without the luxurious furniture and decor. Mabel quietly followed at a respectful distance. When they reached Pacifica’s bedroom, the door was closed. Pacifica turned the knob and pushed, but something was in the way. “Help me with this.”

Mabel didn’t say a word. She put her shoulder against the door alongside Pacifica and together they pushed it open. They discovered a crudely built, vaguely human-shaped robot with dangerous-looking appendages had been slumped against the other side. More than a dozen other robots with similar, yet unique designs laid around the lavender-shaded room; all deactivated.

Pacifica tiptoed through the collection of robots to the window and Mabel followed her. She glanced around curiously, having never been in Pacifica’s room before. There was a tiny porcelain figure of a prancing horse on the window sill. Pacifica picked it up and held it in the palm of her hand. Mabel was not surprised to look out the window and see a disused eighteen hole miniature golf course on the lawn outside. Beyond that was an empty corral with high grass and fallen steeplechase hurdles.

Pacifica noticed Mabel looking out at the trappings of her former life. “I used to think my parents would love me if I won enough trophies,” she said, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

Mabel had never seen so herself, but Dipper had told her how Pacifica had let her guard down and spoke candidly with him on two separate occasions. She took a chance that this was another such moment. “Pacifica, I just want to tell you that I’m very sorry that I didn’t stay in touch. You and I...didn’t always get along very well last summer, even after we dropped the rivalry thing. And I just didn’t think you would care. I was wrong.”

Pacifica turned and sat against the wall under the window with her knees to her chest. Mabel sat down next to her. “This is going to sound weird,” Pacifica began. “But I missed you guys. Especially when I’d hear Candy and Grenda talking about stuff you told them. Like, they were always in touch with you.” She sniffed. “I guess when we were all fighting that Cipher thing together, it felt like...like I was a part of something, you know? It was only for a few days, but it felt like I had a real family that cared about me; even when I didn’t deserve it. And when you guys left, it was all gone. And my parents were angry. And we had to move. And I had to go to public school. And it was all awful.”

“Oh my gosh. Pacifica,” said Mabel, heart-stricken. “I can’t believe how badly I’ve let you down. I promise, you are in my inner circle now. You will know everything Grenda and Candy know. And I’m going to check in on you all the time. And I’ll make Dipstick do it too. Now tell me all about everything from the day we left, and I’ll tell you about what happened to us.”

* * *

Fiddleford McGucket didn’t have a lab per se. The whole house was a nauseating mixture of living space, workshop, garbage heap, and laboratory. Ford and Dipper eventually found a concentration of research equipment, notes, and experimental devices in what had been the Northwest’s cherished White Room. Dipper smiled at the irredeemably damaged carpet, particularly a large scorch mark in the middle. “This will cheer Pacifica up,” he said to himself.

Ford noticed a pile of alien objects in the corner. “It looks like Fiddleford has been making excursions to Crash Site Omega,” he observed as he set his duffle bag on a cluttered table.

Dipper was examining a machine that was a hybrid of zany McGucket contraption and alien technology. He beckoned Ford over. “What do you suppose this does?” 

Ford studied it for a moment. “It appears to be a gamma-ray laser,” he said, shocked. “This is over-the-horizon stuff. It’s supposed to require significant advances in dozens of scientific and engineering disciplines in order to be achievable. I surmise he filled in the blanks with parts from Crash Site Omega.”

* * *

“So what’s this favor that I owe you, Paz?” asked Mabel after they had filled each other in about their lives.

Pacifica sighed. “I don’t know. I have this thing in my head; an idea, I guess. I can’t stop thinking about it, but it won’t work. It can’t now. I was just saying it to sound angry.”

“Come on. We’ve shared this much; we’re like sisters now. What’s going on?” Mabel applied some judicious peer pressure, tried and true method of teens everywhere.

Pacifica took a deep breath and covered her face with her hands. She didn’t want to see Mabel react. “It’s just that...” she began haltingly. “While I missed both of you, I missed Dipper more; like, more than more. It hurt that he was gone. He was, I guess, the first person to really see me for who I am and really believe in me. And I kind of thought he was brave and cute in an awkward sort of way, but I didn’t really figure it out until Grenda told me he had a girlfriend. It felt like I was kicked in the stomach. I cried so hard. Why do I have to have a crush on _him_?”

She heard Mabel shift around and looked up. Mabel was crouched directly in front of her. Her eyes were glittering with delight inches from Pacifica’s face. “Pacifica!” Mabel beamed. “I knew it! I totally called it when you texted me thinking my number was Dipper’s. An expert matchmaker’s instincts are never wrong!”

She cringed. “Ugh, Mabel. You are not making this better.”

“But serious time though.” Mabel looked at her earnestly. “If you ask me to help you get between Dipper and Crystal, I’m not going to do it.”

“I know. It’s something the old Pacifica would do. I just have to accept that I can’t be with him and hope this pit in my stomach stops hurting eventually. You don’t owe me any favors. I don’t know why I said that.” Tears began leaking down Pacifica’s face.

“No.” Mabel stood, grabbed Pacifica’s hand, and pulled her to her feet. “I did you wrong by not talking to you for, like, forever. I do owe you a favor. It just won’t be that.”

Pacifica regained her composure. “Thanks, Mabel. I think I’m done with this terrible house.” She threw the porcelain horse against the wall, breaking it. Dozens of shards tinkled on the hardwood floor.

The room erupted with mechanical noise as the previously inert robots began to activate. Servos whined as they pulled themselves erect. Pacifica and Mabel bolted for the door as the robot’s software finished running diagnostic scans. Pacifica pulled it shut as they dashed out.

They paused for a moment and looked back when they heard a buzzy whining sound, only to see the spinning blade of a rotary saw appear through the surface of the door.

Mabel jumped back. “I am never doing the robot dance again!”

“Let’s just find the guys and get out of here.” Pacifica grabbed her by the wrist, and they ran down the hallway.

* * *

Ford and Dipper were sifting through a pile of papers at the table in the White Room when Mabel and Pacifica came huffing into the room. “Oh hey, Pacifica.” Dipper grinned. “Check out what Old Man McGucket did to your parents’ favorite carpet pattern.”

“Not important!” yelled the panting girl. “Robots. Run from the robots!”

“Robots? What?” Dipper furrowed his brow in confusion. But it was relieved a moment later when a platoon of the automatons appeared, clattering toward them down the hall.

Ford drew his ray gun and began firing on the advancing wall of machinery. He managed to disable a few, but the wave was unrelenting. Dipper looked around for a weapon, and his eyes settled on the gamma-ray laser. He swung it around on its pintle and aimed it down the hall at the robots. He grabbed a handle and pulled it back to prep the system, then fired a continuous stream of gamma particles into the onrush. He bathed the robots in radiation and they began to pop apart as he swept the beam back and forth.

The last few robots managed to make it into the room. One dodged to Dipper’s left and he panned the laser sideways to hit it. Another went straight at Dipper and knocked the gamma-ray laser out of Dipper’s control before Ford blasted it with his ray gun.

The gamma-ray beam went topsy-turvy on the pintle, causing everyone to dive for cover. The beam settled on Ford’s duffle bag, quickly degrading the fabric. The moment it hit the alien device, a portal opened under it for a split second. The device fell through the portal and reappeared nearly instantly, embedded in a nearby wall.

“Shut it off!” yelled Ford.

Dipper lunged for the power supply and disconnected it, but not before the damage was done. There were multiple small fires in the room, which were quickly growing amongst the junk and coalescing into a major conflagration.

“Run for the tunnel!”

The teens bolted for the great hall and the secret exit as the flames spread. Ford yanked the alien device, successfully identified as a teleporter, out of the wall, pulling chunks of solid oak panelling with it. He then followed the teens and caught up as they made it to the tunnel Ford pulled his flashlight out of his pocket and illuminated the way for them as they pounded down the stairs and through the long corridor.

They exited the shed behind the factory and collapsed against the side of Stan’s red sedan. They turned and looked up the hill at the growing plume of thick, black smoke visible above the crest. It seemed like an hour before they heard the sirens of the fire department arriving at the scene.

Mabel wrapped her arms around Pacifica and pulled her into a hug when the girl began to sob. She caught Dipper’s eye over Pacifica’s shoulder and then glanced meaningfully at her friend, nodding subtly. Dipper got the hint. He awkwardly took Pacifica’s hand, cringing internally at the remonstration he imagined Crystal would give him. He was surprised that she didn’t let go and even squeezed his back.

* * *

“Mason, I can’t believe how reckless you are being! This isn’t like you.” scolded Crystal.

Dipper tried to soothe her. “It wasn’t that bad. A robot only got close to me once. And we got out of there before the fire really got bad.” He was standing on the platform on the roof of the Mystery Shack in the fading twilight.

“You burned down that poor girl’s house!” She wasn’t budging. “What was her name? Pacifica?”

“It wasn’t hers anymore, and she didn’t even like the house. Besides, there was no one there…Ow!” Dipper shouted in pain.

“Argh, what is it now?” Frustration was growing in her voice.

“Something bit—Ow!” He yelped again. “Grrr. I’m being attacked by biting fairies…Ow!” He began swatting at the tiny glowing humanoids diving towards his vulnerable neck.

“Mason Pines, I don’t know how you expect me to believe any of your stories anymore. Each one is more unconvincing than the last,” Crystal excoriated him.

“I know…Ow! I need to go inside. I’ll call you back tomorr…Ow! Miss you!” Dipper ended the call as he ran for the ladder.

Be sure to read the next adventure: 

The Ghosts of Corduroy Cabin


End file.
